Checkmate

Chew that gardenia And laugh every minute Nod and shrug While caressing each piece Of players on squares The whites will strike Twice for that matter And the blacks will laugh back Fickle… fickle… And my turn to chew Will arrive in the gloom of the ether And I will shrug and nod Pushing blacks to whites Fickle as ever Laugh, laugh… chew harder. And the whites will strike again Begging the blacks to induce An air of enigmatic falter To weaken the senses And laugh heartily, anyway. Both will shrug at the gardenias To caress the senses with comical relief Envy the whites and the blacks And push the players aside For they will forever laugh - at us. Fickle… fickle…